Period 1 Chef
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: First of my "Passing Periods" experimental series. You'll see; but for now it's first period and we have a substitute at H. G. Wells. I said, "You'll see," Boris. Sit back and enjoy.


Period 1 Chef

Keely, Jenna, Barbara Diffy

08:30am-9:20am

Disclaimer: Though I don't own PotF, I try not to cry about it because it waters down the broth. (sob) At least Phil's back on Disney XD. :)

Thanks to okaie for being my secret ingredient in this tale ;)

Crouched down to open the bottom drawer, the substitute glanced at Ms. Navin's carefully prepare lesson plans calling for a spinach souffle with wild rice accompanying freshly baked tilapia in lemon sauce. Singsongy, "Oh, I don't think so." She peered over the island demonstration counter at the students, her students for the next fifty minutes, taking seats on barstools.

"A piece of cake," tittered the teacher's recorded instructions over the phone as her sub listened to the assignment offered that morning. "Lesson plans are in the bottom right drawer labeled 'Lesson Plans.' Seven periods with the fourth off for planning. It's the first day of the new term and since there's nothing to grade yet, just enjoy an extended lunch. The last class ends at 2:40."

A catty whisper to the lesson plan book, "Sure, a piece of cake for someone who's taught the class for a dozen years, but I'm no Julia Child -- I'm not even the drive-thru clown at Jack-in-the-Box. All I wanted was to get out of the house and do something different, but not this. I should have taken the P.E. assignment. This is going to be a LO-O-N-G day." She got up and deleted the recipes for this period assignment from the projected PowerPoint presentation. In the back of the drawer she had found a piece of chalk, probably left over from a long retired teacher a previous century or two ago. On the ancient turtle-green blackboard she scratched up:

_**Home Cooking**_

Some students were still trying to have conversations with friends they had discovered in their first class, other were poised with pens in hand, ready to copy anything written on the board. A few hands went up with completely normal, quite on topic questions. Then, there was Keely Teslow's.

"Mrs. Diffy?"

"Yes, Keely."

"Since the assignment is 'home cooking,' would you please tell us your definition for 'home?'"

"Keely, I really don't think that's necessary for this assignment. Now, if you'll all break up into groups of four and select a kitchen station, we'll --"

"Please?"

Sigh. Reflective pause for effect. "Home. 'Home is where they have to take you in.' Now then, let's get started. Station One --"

"Mrs. Diffy?"

"Keely?"

"I recognize that quote from English Lit. last semester. I wanted to know what you think 'home' means."

Stretching downward, Barbara's hands go together, sliding one atop the other, fingers interlocking and being raised to her chin as if in prayer. She looks very contemplative. "When, when you're lost or hurt, scared or threatened, home is where you want to be. It's safety, it's warmth, love and nurturing. No matter how you're judged, you're never loved one iota less. Home is where people take care of you, and you, you're happy to be there to take care of them."

The class is looking wide-eyed at their teacher-for-the-day. Pens are scribbling this all down in case it's on the test.

"How's that Keely? Enough?"

"Do you have to be born there?"

"No, some people think of where they were born or where they grew up as home, but it may not be the place that anchors them in stormy times. 'Home' is their safe harbor. Now if that's all, we really need to get started."

"One more thing -- sorry -- where's home for you, Mrs. Diffy?"

There it was. The question that she had been avoiding, sidetracking herself with such trivial distractions as the perfection of her Snicker Doodles every Thursday for weeks ... no, years now. Is this home? Is the future home? It was, but if you can't go home again ... but if you could, would it be the right thing to do? There were-are-will be vast advantages in the future: much faster, safer, better medicines, wider variety of foods, entertainment, clothing, music ... distractions ... distractions.

Barbara's eyes welled up.

"Mrs. Diffy, are you okay?" asked Jenna.

Mrs. Barbara Diffy of the year 2121 was trying to maintain her focus on the young woman before her, the one whose heart was asking questions of her own that had nothing to do with nutrition and everything to do with sustenance. She hadn't expected having to take a test when she agreed on the phone to substitute this morning, let alone be faced with one of Life's pass or fail questions. She could now make out Keely just enough to recognize that she was on the verge of crying as well, her happiness teetering on what Barbara would utter next. Her next words could easily break her heart.

Barbara inhales a runny-nose-sniff, "'Home' comes down to happiness, Keely. Home is the place that I'm happy I'll be going to, that I'm looking forward to returning to. My family belongs there, where I can share in their happiness -- and to answer your next question, Keely, my 'family' is my husband, son, daughter, and the neighbor girl who welcomed us with a platter filled with cookies. Any more questions before we begin?"

Every young adult, including the one in the room who mattered most to her, was ready to begin preparing something that represented "Home."


End file.
